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daylight_darknightSorry, this is rather late. I decided this chapter needed lengthening and ended up nitpicking it forever. Then I decided I really needed another chapter between this one and the next, so I'll probably be late updating tomorrow too. But in good news, I think I finally figured out a plot for the sequel so it won't just be a random collection of scenes.
Title: Practically Human 12/19
Characters: Castiel, Bobby, Dean
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and a little violence and disturbing stuff in later chapters
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama
Word Count: ~18,000 in 18 in little chapters
Spoilers: Up to the end of season 5
Summary: Some things are a lot easier to deal with when the world is ending.
AN: This takes place in a slight AU where season 5 ends almost the exact same way except Castiel's powers are never restored and Bobby is still in a wheelchair. While Dean goes off to keep his promise to his brother, Castiel ends up left behind at Bobby's as he tries to adjust to his new life as a human
Chapter 12
Castiel woke with the feeling that the world was tilted at the wrong angle. As he slowly blinked his eyes open, he became aware of a shaft of sunlight streaming through a window above him illuminating dusty books and faded wallpaper. After a few groggy moments where thoughts gradually began to coalesce in his head, he realized he was lying on the bed in the study and briefly wondered where Bobby had spent the night.
Absently, he reached up to scratch his chest and was surprised when his fingers encountered a bandage. Looking down, he saw bright white gauze wrapped around his bare chest which now, as if gazing at it had set it off, seemed to be a mass of stinging aches. He blinked again and shook his head. His thoughts were still slow and memories eluded him. Picking carefully at the bandage, he was able to loosen it enough to get a look underneath. Stitched lines covered his chest as if he was a badly made patchwork doll. He leaned back trying to recall what had happened. Eventually, it started coming back to him, but only in small hazy pieces.
He remembered being woken up by the loud irritated murmurings of his brothers’ voices after only a few short hours sleep having spent most of the night gazing at the stars through his window. He remembered feeling uncomfortable and constrained in his human skin. He remembered going downstairs to make breakfast. He remembered the desperate, panicky feeling of being trapped. Then there was a knife and the irrational idea that if he just carved away the flesh enclosing him, he would finally be free. And then for some reason, he remembered Bobby holding him and telling him everything was going to be alright.
Slowly, it all fell together, but it didn’t quite feel real as if it had happened to someone else. Castiel thought he should feel disgust or revulsion for the pointless mutilation he’d performed, or possibly even embarrassment, but he didn’t feel anything at all.
“Good you’re awake”.
Castiel glanced over to see Bobby pushing his chair in from the kitchen manoeuvring it over until he was beside the bed.
“How you doing?” The old hunter asked laying a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, his gaze carefully scrutinizing. He raised his eyebrows as he waited for an answer.
Not having one, Castiel didn’t bother to reply. He turned his eyes to the ceiling instead.
Leaning back, Bobby continued eyeing him intently. “Going to tell me what’s been going on in that head of yours?”
All Castiel wanted at that moment was silence and stillness, so he remained so wishing Bobby would leave him alone.
“Fine,” Bobby declared when Castiel didn’t respond, his compassionate expression shifting downward. “If you’re not going to talk to me, you might as well get your lazy butt out of bed and into some clean clothes so you can eat breakfast.”
“No,” said the former angel.
“Excuse me?”
“I do not feel like getting out of bed.”
Bobby moved over until he was able to lean directly over Castiel. “Did I ask if you wanted to get up? You’re in my house, boy and I won’t have you lying around wasting away. Now, move it!”
It might have been his old habit of obedience re-emerging, or possibly just the overwhelming strength of Bobby’s will, but Castiel found himself unwilling to disobey. He let his leaden limbs lead him out of the bed and he manoeuvred gracelessly upstairs feeling Bobby’s forceful gaze on his back the entire time.
******
“So… how are you feeling?” Dean asked hesitantly.
“The stitches itch,” Castiel replied scratching at his bandaged chest. Bobby had already rebuked him several times that day for doing the same thing.
“Well, they’ve got to stay in until you’re healed so just don’t pick at them,” Dean explained as if Castiel were a petulant child instead of an ex-angel. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant.”
“I…” Castiel searched for the words but he was no closer to being able to define his feelings than he had been that morning. “I don’t know,” he told Dean truthfully.
“Do you at least know why the hell you did what you did?”
Feeling reluctant to give voice to his troubles, Castiel fidgeted silently for a moment. “This body is a cage, somehow both too small and too heavy,” he finally replied finding himself struggling with the inadequate, two dimensional words of the human’s language once more. “I know what I did was wrong, the reasoning unsound, but I was unable to fight the need to escape.”
“God, Cas…” Dean sighed and Castiel flinched at the poor choice of words. “But you’re better now? You’re not going to try something stupid like that again?”
Castiel stared at the patterns on the old wallpaper glad for once that Dean wasn’t there so he didn’t have to worry about avoiding his prying eyes. “I did not wish to leave the bed this morning,” he admitted, “but Bobby forced me to get up and eat.”
“Yeah, he can be a real drill sergeant sometimes, but he’s just trying to help.”
“I doubt there is anything he can do to help me.” Dean might consider Bobby a miracle worker, but Castiel knew that not even Bobby could restore his grace, free him from this weighted shell or enliven his dead wings once more.
“Damn it, Cas!” Dean cried, his sudden angry tone making Castiel jump. “You scared the shit out of me. When Bobby told me what happened, I thought…”
“I apologise,” Castiel said feeling an unpleasant flash of guilt amidst the numb despair.
“No,” was Dean’s quick reply, his voice noticeably calmer and contrite. “Don’t apologise. It’s not your fault. You’ve probably got the angel equivalent of PTSD or something.”
Castiel’s eyes narrowed as he frowned. “PTSD?”
“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Lisa claims it’s the reason I have so many nightmares and act so jumpy. She wants me to see a shrink, but it’s not like I’d be able to tell him anything. I utter one word of what’s happened to me and it’s off to the nuthouse again. No way am I going back there.”
“Then what should I do?” Castiel asked unable to keep it from being a desperate plea.
“I don’t know,” Dean said quietly. “I wish I had all the answers, but I don’t. Just please tell me that you won’t do anything like that again.”
“Dean. I…” Castiel very much wanted to make that promise to Dean, but felt as if he had no control over the emotions that had been influencing his actions recently.
“I can’t lose you too, not now,” pleaded Dean.
“I will try not to,” Castiel said because it was the best he could do.
“Thanks. You’ll get through this,” Dean insisted with forced optimism. “You’ll be fine. We both will. After all, we survived the apocalypse. This should be a piece of cake.”
Though he kept silent, Castiel wasn’t so sure. Somehow, things had been a lot easier to deal with when they had spent most of their time worrying about the end of the world.
Chapter 13
Title: Practically Human 12/19
Characters: Castiel, Bobby, Dean
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and a little violence and disturbing stuff in later chapters
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama
Word Count: ~18,000 in 18 in little chapters
Spoilers: Up to the end of season 5
Summary: Some things are a lot easier to deal with when the world is ending.
AN: This takes place in a slight AU where season 5 ends almost the exact same way except Castiel's powers are never restored and Bobby is still in a wheelchair. While Dean goes off to keep his promise to his brother, Castiel ends up left behind at Bobby's as he tries to adjust to his new life as a human
Chapter 12
Castiel woke with the feeling that the world was tilted at the wrong angle. As he slowly blinked his eyes open, he became aware of a shaft of sunlight streaming through a window above him illuminating dusty books and faded wallpaper. After a few groggy moments where thoughts gradually began to coalesce in his head, he realized he was lying on the bed in the study and briefly wondered where Bobby had spent the night.
Absently, he reached up to scratch his chest and was surprised when his fingers encountered a bandage. Looking down, he saw bright white gauze wrapped around his bare chest which now, as if gazing at it had set it off, seemed to be a mass of stinging aches. He blinked again and shook his head. His thoughts were still slow and memories eluded him. Picking carefully at the bandage, he was able to loosen it enough to get a look underneath. Stitched lines covered his chest as if he was a badly made patchwork doll. He leaned back trying to recall what had happened. Eventually, it started coming back to him, but only in small hazy pieces.
He remembered being woken up by the loud irritated murmurings of his brothers’ voices after only a few short hours sleep having spent most of the night gazing at the stars through his window. He remembered feeling uncomfortable and constrained in his human skin. He remembered going downstairs to make breakfast. He remembered the desperate, panicky feeling of being trapped. Then there was a knife and the irrational idea that if he just carved away the flesh enclosing him, he would finally be free. And then for some reason, he remembered Bobby holding him and telling him everything was going to be alright.
Slowly, it all fell together, but it didn’t quite feel real as if it had happened to someone else. Castiel thought he should feel disgust or revulsion for the pointless mutilation he’d performed, or possibly even embarrassment, but he didn’t feel anything at all.
“Good you’re awake”.
Castiel glanced over to see Bobby pushing his chair in from the kitchen manoeuvring it over until he was beside the bed.
“How you doing?” The old hunter asked laying a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, his gaze carefully scrutinizing. He raised his eyebrows as he waited for an answer.
Not having one, Castiel didn’t bother to reply. He turned his eyes to the ceiling instead.
Leaning back, Bobby continued eyeing him intently. “Going to tell me what’s been going on in that head of yours?”
All Castiel wanted at that moment was silence and stillness, so he remained so wishing Bobby would leave him alone.
“Fine,” Bobby declared when Castiel didn’t respond, his compassionate expression shifting downward. “If you’re not going to talk to me, you might as well get your lazy butt out of bed and into some clean clothes so you can eat breakfast.”
“No,” said the former angel.
“Excuse me?”
“I do not feel like getting out of bed.”
Bobby moved over until he was able to lean directly over Castiel. “Did I ask if you wanted to get up? You’re in my house, boy and I won’t have you lying around wasting away. Now, move it!”
It might have been his old habit of obedience re-emerging, or possibly just the overwhelming strength of Bobby’s will, but Castiel found himself unwilling to disobey. He let his leaden limbs lead him out of the bed and he manoeuvred gracelessly upstairs feeling Bobby’s forceful gaze on his back the entire time.
******
“So… how are you feeling?” Dean asked hesitantly.
“The stitches itch,” Castiel replied scratching at his bandaged chest. Bobby had already rebuked him several times that day for doing the same thing.
“Well, they’ve got to stay in until you’re healed so just don’t pick at them,” Dean explained as if Castiel were a petulant child instead of an ex-angel. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant.”
“I…” Castiel searched for the words but he was no closer to being able to define his feelings than he had been that morning. “I don’t know,” he told Dean truthfully.
“Do you at least know why the hell you did what you did?”
Feeling reluctant to give voice to his troubles, Castiel fidgeted silently for a moment. “This body is a cage, somehow both too small and too heavy,” he finally replied finding himself struggling with the inadequate, two dimensional words of the human’s language once more. “I know what I did was wrong, the reasoning unsound, but I was unable to fight the need to escape.”
“God, Cas…” Dean sighed and Castiel flinched at the poor choice of words. “But you’re better now? You’re not going to try something stupid like that again?”
Castiel stared at the patterns on the old wallpaper glad for once that Dean wasn’t there so he didn’t have to worry about avoiding his prying eyes. “I did not wish to leave the bed this morning,” he admitted, “but Bobby forced me to get up and eat.”
“Yeah, he can be a real drill sergeant sometimes, but he’s just trying to help.”
“I doubt there is anything he can do to help me.” Dean might consider Bobby a miracle worker, but Castiel knew that not even Bobby could restore his grace, free him from this weighted shell or enliven his dead wings once more.
“Damn it, Cas!” Dean cried, his sudden angry tone making Castiel jump. “You scared the shit out of me. When Bobby told me what happened, I thought…”
“I apologise,” Castiel said feeling an unpleasant flash of guilt amidst the numb despair.
“No,” was Dean’s quick reply, his voice noticeably calmer and contrite. “Don’t apologise. It’s not your fault. You’ve probably got the angel equivalent of PTSD or something.”
Castiel’s eyes narrowed as he frowned. “PTSD?”
“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Lisa claims it’s the reason I have so many nightmares and act so jumpy. She wants me to see a shrink, but it’s not like I’d be able to tell him anything. I utter one word of what’s happened to me and it’s off to the nuthouse again. No way am I going back there.”
“Then what should I do?” Castiel asked unable to keep it from being a desperate plea.
“I don’t know,” Dean said quietly. “I wish I had all the answers, but I don’t. Just please tell me that you won’t do anything like that again.”
“Dean. I…” Castiel very much wanted to make that promise to Dean, but felt as if he had no control over the emotions that had been influencing his actions recently.
“I can’t lose you too, not now,” pleaded Dean.
“I will try not to,” Castiel said because it was the best he could do.
“Thanks. You’ll get through this,” Dean insisted with forced optimism. “You’ll be fine. We both will. After all, we survived the apocalypse. This should be a piece of cake.”
Though he kept silent, Castiel wasn’t so sure. Somehow, things had been a lot easier to deal with when they had spent most of their time worrying about the end of the world.
Chapter 13
